


Winter for Elephants

by mutationalfalsetto



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Circus, Elephants, Gen, Memories, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers is a v minor character tbh, steve/bucky if you squint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6572551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutationalfalsetto/pseuds/mutationalfalsetto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time there was a circus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter for Elephants

**Author's Note:**

> thanks, [bazzystar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bazzystar/pseuds/bazzystar), for the title suggestion (even if it isn't any more appropriate than my original title)

Once upon a time there was a circus.

No

Once upon a time, he thinks, there was a circus.

Once upon a time

He thinks

Once

He 

Saw a circus, in a picture. In a book. A big, colorful tent dwarfing the people trying to fit inside. A man in a top hat standing in the center of a ring, arm outstretched toward

what

a booming voice carrying over the excited whispers of the crowd. “ _Elephants! I saw ‘em outside!_ ” “ _You think they’ll have a clown?_ ” “ _Ain’t you ever been to a circus before? Th’ fuck wouldn’t they have clowns?_ ” “ _Look at the pretty lady, mama!_ ” “ _LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I_ “

peanuts

salty, in a bag. The paper crinkles beneath his fingers and he pops another into his mouth, shell and all and someone, he thinks, laughs because “ _didn’t anyone ever teach you how to eat ‘em right? ‘N I thought I was a disaster—_ “ and a hand reaches out flicks

an ear 

carefully

because the person on the other end of that ear was sick last week, he knows. Was sick last week and for so much longer than that, judging by the rattle in his chest when he breathes. The color in his cheeks that’s so fundamentally different from the color in his cheeks when he’s standing in an alley, fists raised because “ _I can do this all day_ ” because

because

“ _Hey you wanna share, maybe?_ ” he’s not asking, not really but nobody really asks

any

way

there were peanuts. For the elephants that 

wait.

There were peanuts, that he dropped to rub the skinny shoulders that shook when ????????

“ _LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT IS MY PLEASURE TO INTRODUCE THE LOVELY_ ”

the top hat rolls, comes to a stop against a water barrel. He wonders if it’s for the elephants, like the peanuts were for the elephants. Like the bales of hay were for the elephants and he wants 

“ _Jesus,       , why didn’t you just say—_ “ 

“ _Y’know what,     ? Sh-shut up. F’r a goddamn second._ ” He rubs circles just like his ma does when he’s getting sick. Something bubbles in his chest, small and pale yellow and he tries hard to identify

Once upon a time there was a circus. It appeared in the field just outside the city, first the workers, then the flyers peppering every surface. Every empty wall. Colorful and bright, just like

he wants to see them, he thinks. He slips the knife back into his boot, leaves the ringmaster and wanders in the direction of the holding area. A soft gurgling sound that’s drowned out by the roar of the crowd, the stamping of feet as the trapeze artist flings herself through the air in a flash of sequins and

“ _Let’s hear it for                “_ because that feeling is bubbling again, that pale yellow and he’s not sure why because it’s so different now. Those small shoulders, those skinny fingers, those fists raised in defiance because he won’t win but he can sure as fuck _try_ and what is there to do when the breath stutters in his chest and he feels like he’s suffocating on the color that’s rising steadily up from his stomach to rest under his chin. A scream tied up like a neat little bow.

He hears the soft _pft_ before he feels the sting of the tranquilizer dart.

Once upon a time he saw

Once upon a time he wanted

he

wants

“ _слоны_ ” because there’s something clawing desperately at his larynx, shoving aside the fog that settles deep in his lungs, in his brain. Tugging harshly at his vocal folds, forcing them apart with a burst and he chokes on it. “где слоны?”

                       used to be so much smaller and maybe he’s a little resentful, maybe he’s mourning but he can’t be sure because every time he looks at him he feels

“ _What the fuck, what the_ —“

Maybe he’s sobbing with the effort of it, maybe the moisture is something else, it might be raining, just like the rattling in his lungs might not be his. Might belong to someone else, someone smaller, someone standing in front of a poster, _4F_ he thinks. _4F 4F you’re gonna get yourself arrested one of these days, St_

he used to be smaller, he thinks but now he’s

and he wants

“ _Elephants_ ” it’s ripped from his throat and he feels like he’s dangling from strings. A familiar feeling, being a marionette. The man standing in front of him watches him, his eyes bright white in the darkness. The lion roars. The crowd cheers. His chest heaves. The yellow skitters, desperate in his lungs.

“ _Please_.”

He’d feed them peanuts from a crinkling bag clutched in his fist. One, two, three. 

He wants

Once

A hand on his shoulder, the bite of the wind. Snow sticking to his eyelashes, resting in his hair. The rush before his feet find something solid again. “ _Now why would I do that?_ ” now why

now 

Once upon a time there was a circus. _Was_ because the tophat rolled somewhere by the water barrel. _Was_ because the blood bubbled uselessly through his lips, a final attempt at sustaining life. The lungs are trying. The lungs are failing.

“ _I had him on the ropes_ ”

The man is still watching him. He sways. Wonders if a circus can keep going if the ringmaster’s dead.

Once upon a time there _was_

Once upon a time there

wait

_слоны_

A scream, like a bow under his chin. Flailing limbs as he falls and he falls and

he

falls

and 

he 

_wants_

he 

“Солдат.”

wants

 _pft_  

“Спутник.”

_oh_

**Author's Note:**

> comments and feedback are 500% appreciated, feel free to follow me on [tumblr](http://passavantsridge.tumblr.com/)


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